With You by My Side
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: This is a sequel to Meant to Be Yours. It will focus on Regina dealing with the fall out of her curse and finding her happy ending–feeling accepted, forgiving herself, and comfortable in who she is–and, of course, like the original story, have lots of sweet family moments with Robin, Regina, Henry and Roland.
1. Moving In

**For #OQHappyEndingWeek, Friday / Day 5′s prompt was cursed, so I decided to take the opportunity to share the first part of the sequel to Meant to Be Yours… which I've really missed writing.**

 **The sequel will focus on Regina dealing with the fall out of her curse and finding her happy ending–feeling accepted, forgiving herself, and comfortable in who she is–and, of course, like the original story, have lots of sweet family moments with Robin, Regina, Henry and Roland.**

* * *

Regina lets out a shaky breath as she closes herself into her office, flattening her palm against the glass on the door. She pinches her eyes closed and reminds herself to breathe, tamping down the soft, rumbling rage that she can feel bubbling up inside of herself–and as she draws in a breath and slowly releases it, she reminds herself that she brought this all on herself.

For a month now, Storybrooke has been in a complete upheaval.

During the cursed years, she'd dealt with minor annoyances and small problems that arose here and there, every now and then there'd be a handful of spirited town halls meetings, but for the most part the job of governing in Storybrooke had been dull. No matter what she or anyone else did or said, it was always temporary, undone as the curse renewed and readjusted itself.

She told herself that it'd take time for things to settle and for people to adjust, but in a month's time the situation had gone from bad to worse. She put herself in front of them as often as possible, doing her best to patiently answer questions she'd already answered a million times over and explaining why returning to the Enchanted Forest simply wasn't an option, why they should trust her, what they could do to start their lives anew in Storybrooke, explaining the virtues of living in the modern world.

In a humbling gesture, at the end of the first week, she'd put out a notice from her office, returning the hearts she'd collected in her vault. Robin had stood beside her as she opened the boxes, watching as the hearts began to glow as she summoned their owners, offering a sincere apology as she shoved them back into waiting chests. By the end of that day, she'd been exhausted and emotionally spent, and when she turned to see some hearts unclaimed, she was hit with the realization of what that meant and a knot that still hadn't loosened formed in her stomach. She'd looked away from them and Robin caught her by the chin, smiling warmly as he turned her to face him, reminding her that what was done was done and she could only do better moving forward.

At the end of each day, though, it didn't seem to matter what she did or said, no matter how many times she explained herself and tried to make amends, it was never quite enough. She was stuck in a loop–apologizing again and again for the things she'd done, rationalizing them and explaining, promising to be better now.

Rumors spread that there'd been people the curse left behind–though, they were people no one could pin a name to–and rumors spread that the Queen had an ulterior motive. They fueled each other's speculations and created conspiracies, and then that morning a petition arrived on her desk.

Nervously, her secretary had admitted she wasn't sure who dropped it off, and she supposed it didn't matter; instead, what mattered was the point of the petition, and the point was that she was no longer wanted.

She'd sat at her desk and carefully read what she'd long suspected–Storybrooke wasn't the issue, she was. And that fall, she'd have a challenger for her spot as mayor. Her throat had tightened as she scanned the four pages of signatures that accompanied the petition. When she got to the end, she felt a rush of emotion that sat heavily on her chest. She couldn't quite describe what she was feeling, but she didn't like it, and it was oddly reminiscent of the way she'd felt in the earliest years of her marriage. It was a feeling she'd spent years trying to push away, and now it was back in full-force, but this time she could say that it was undeserved–and that only made it worse.

That was the feeling she took with her to that afternoon's town hall meeting–and suddenly, even the simplest of questions felt like an attack.

She'd suffered through it, though, doing her best to keep her voice level and clam–but her face had given her away. Her jaw and shoulders were tense, and her hands had balled into fists beneath the table. She felt that familiar tingling at her fingertips as Midas rose up in the middle of the crowd.

All she could think of was the petition she'd read earlier, and though it wasn't clear upon reading it, now that he was standing and speaking, it was clear that he'd been behind it–and she couldn't help but fantasize about all of the ways she could shut him up.

But, of course, that would only prove his point.

So, she'd sat there, listening and pretending to be patient as he explained that if the Enchanted Forest wasn't an option, Storybrooke should be split apart into sections, giving each former ruler jurisdiction over "their land" and "their people." She'd attempted to point out that it wasn't that simple, Storybrooke wasn't laid out the way the Enchanted Forest was and because everyone was scattered around the town, drawing those lines wouldn't be easy–but he'd balked at her "excuses" and told the crowd she was merely trying to keep power for herself.

Then, he'd announced his intentions to run against her–reminding everyone she was never a chosen ruler and that she'd come to power by murdering a good man to whom she'd been married. He reminded them of how they feared her torment, how she'd put personal vendettas ahead of their well-being, and how she'd uprooted their lives and stolen their fates.

She hadn't had the chance to refute it–and really, how could she?

None of what he said was untrue and even she had to admit, they didn't have a reason to trust her.

The meeting adjourned and she'd gone out of the back exit, not wading through the crowd–and as she stood alone in her office, she was finally able to let out her emotion. She let hot tears roll down her cheeks as she ranted and raved in the empty room, and when she felt magic tingling at the tips of her fingers, she didn't stop it, setting the petition ablaze.

Then, she caught a glimpse of the image she kept in a frame on the corner of her desk–and a slight smile edged onto her lips as she looked at the picture of Robin and the boys. Henry and Roland were each sitting on his knee, smiling widely as he held the camera out in front of them and smiled just as wide. She remembers the way her heart fluttered when she'd opened up the image on her phone, with the words "Miss you!" beneath it in the little gray text bubble.

Reaching for the picture, she held it in her hands, looking down at it as she traced her finger over Henry, reminding herself to relax and reminding herself that she didn't want him to see her this way. She released a breath as she returned the picture back to its place and reached for her purse beneath the desk, drawing it up over her shoulder as she forced her thoughts away from the petition and the town hall and toward Robin and the boys, waiting for her at Robin's cabin–and she reminded herself that this was why she'd scheduled each and every town hall meeting on a Tuesday night…

It wasn't long before she was standing in front of the counter at Mushu's, their favorite Chinese restaurant, waiting for their usual takeout order–giggling softly to herself as she considered whether or not she'd be able to successfully get Roland to try her seafood soup. She ordered a few extra almond cookies–bribing him with sweets generally proved successful, and a few minutes later, she was walking to her car with bags filled with paper cartons of soups, fried rice, lo mein and egg rolls–and of course the almond cookies.

Typically, on Tuesday nights, they stayed in and made something of the boys' choosing. Roland and Henry took turns picking out recipes to try. They picked out movies and games, and made a night of it–and she found that regardless of whatever else that happened on those days, Tuesdays were always her favorites.

No matter what was going on, Tuesday nights were always a reprieve, their dinners were a happy and welcomed escape.

She turned her key in the ignition, and as she shifted her car into reverse, she felt a small smile pulling onto her lips as her shoulders relaxed a little at the thought of Tuesday night dinners becoming more like _every night_ dinners. Of course, Tuesdays would still be different than the other nights, but other nights would share some of her favorite elements of Tuesdays–those elements being Robin and the boys, and the ease that being with them brought to her.

The following morning, Robin and Roland were officially moving in.

Slowly but surely, they'd spent an increasing amount of time together, and after the curse broke a month before, Robin had been continually at her side–and though she hated to admit that she needed anyone, she's not quite sure how she'd have handled the last month without his love and support.

Rubbing her thumb against her engagement ring, she draws in a breath and turns down the long dirt road that leads to Robin's cabin, pushing away all thoughts of Midas, the town hall meeting, and all of the things she couldn't control.

Regina is barely through the door before Roland comes bounding toward her, calling out her name over and over again while waving what looks like a DVD. She laughs as Robin trots out of the bedroom behind him, scooping him up and twisting him upside down, tickling his exposed stomach. Grinning, she rounds the corner into the kitchen, careful to keep an eye on them from across the island counter that separates the rooms. She sets down the take out and pushes a box out of the way to make room for her purse, and Robin reminds Roland that bombarding people–no matter how excited he was to see them–was almost always a little rude, reminding him that Regina had had a long day and had barely even made it through the door.

Robin flips Roland back upright and tucks him under his arm as he joins her in the kitchen, and Roland giggles his way through an apology as Robin pecks her lips.

"How'd it go?" he asks as she stoops to kiss Roland's cheek. "You're a bit later than anticipated."

"I'd… rather not discuss it," she admits as she pulls Roland from his arms, smiling as he wraps his legs around her hips and links his arms around her neck. "Especially not when there are _so_ many other things to discuss." She rubs her nose against Roland's and he giggles again as Robin starts to remove the cartons of food from the bags. "What were you going to show me?"

"Hercules!"

"Hercules…"

"Yeah," he nods. "Daddy got it for us when we were shopping."

Her brow arches. "You… bought Roland a movie that he already has?"

Robin sighs as he looks back at her. "It was the easiest option."

"Where's Henry, by the way?"

"Actually helping," Robin replies as he shoots a look at Roland. "He's in my bedroom, helping pack." A grin curls onto his lips. "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

A soft chuckle escapes him as he nods. "I… made a math problem out of it."

"Out of your socks." Robin nods again, and she finds herself chuckling, too. "He must be thrilled."

"Why don't you go and free him?"

Nodding, she sets Roland down on the counter beside the food, and she laughs softly as she hears Roland declare he will _not_ be eating whatever it is in the first carton that Robin opened. She rounds the corner to the back bedroom, smiling as she spots Henry on the bed, staring down at rows of socks.

"Robin gave me a story problem," he tells her, not looking up as he focuses on the socks, holding up a yellow post-it note for her to see. "I'm stuck."

She sits down on the edge of the bed opposite him and takes the post-it, reading it carefully as she looks to the socks–and then her own brow crumples, matching her son's. "Oh…"

"I can't box them up until I figure it out," Henry explains as his eyes shift up to hers. "It's summer. Why do I have to do math?"

Shaking her head, she sighs, remembering an article Robin had read to her about "summer brain drain" and how kids with learning disabilities were always set back at the start of the school year because they were out of practice. It perpetuated a sense of defeatedness and failure, the article said, and by the end of it, he'd decided that wouldn't be happening to Henry.

Almost daily, he brought Henry into his shop, letting him run the cash register and teaching him to tag sale items, helping him to make coffee and measure things for the displays for the front window. Robin made it as fun as he could, and most of the time, Henry agreed that it was. Roland parroted Henry's enthusiasm–and sometimes lack thereof–following him around the store and "helping" with whatever tasks he was allowed.

"So, maybe it's time for a break," Regina suggests, reaching out and brushing his hair away from his eyes. "I think you need a trim."

Henry scrunches his nose and shakes his head, forcing his hair out off of his brow. "What's for dinner? Robin just said take-out."

"Chinese."

Henry brightens. "From Mushu's?"

"Yep, I got lo mein with–"

"Extra bean sprouts?"

Regina nods. "And I grabbed about fifty packets of soy sauce."

"Yesss," Henry hisses excitedly as he rolls off the bed, dropping down the post-it note on top of Robin's socks. "Did you get egg rolls, too?"

"Of course," she says, rising up and draping an arm around Henry. "And soups."

"Soups? Like… more than one?"

"Wonton and seafood."

"Fish?" Henry asks, looking up at her as they make their way into the hallway. "You're gonna make Roland eat it, aren't you?"

A grin pulls onto her lips. "Yeah. I even got extra cookies to bribe him with."

Henry giggles as they reach the living room and as they turn into the kitchen, she pulls him back against her legs, bending as he presses a kiss to the top of her head–and then a moment later, he wiggles free, leaning up onto the tips of his toes, as he peers over the counter, watching as Robin starts to plate their food.

She feels a fleeting twinge of annoyance as she catches a glimpse of gold print on the carton's label, and she thinks of Midas. Her jaw tightens and her shoulders tense, and as she rolls her neck, Robin turns to look at her.

"You okay?"

She nods as his brow arches, unconvinced.

"You… suddenly don't look okay." Henry and Roland both turn to look at her, and she musters a smile and a tight nod. "Hey," Robin murmurs, looking away from her as his eyes shift between the boys. "You two need to wash up before you eat."

"But–"

Robin blinks as he looks pointedly at Roland, but Henry is the one who replies, tugging softly at Roland's pant leg. "Come on," he says. "The sooner we wash our hands, the sooner we can eat and I am _starving_."

Regina watches as Roland hops down off of the counter and he and Henry run off to the bathroom at the end of the hall next to Roland's bedroom. Her eyes shift to Robin and he waits until the water in the bathroom starts to run, and then he turns to her.

"You're upset."

"No, it's just… a momentary…"

"You're upset," he says again–and this time, she nods. "What happened?"

She hesitates for a moment as her eyes roll. "Midas."

"Midas," he repeats as she nods. "You're… going to have to give me a little more than that."

"He's running against me."

"For mayor?"

Again, her eyes roll. "No, in a marathon." Robin sighs and she grimaces. "I'm sorry. I–"

"You're upset."

"I am."

Robin nods, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a hug. Her eyes close. and her arms wrap around him as her head falls to his shoulder. "He has all these… ideas and… everyone clapped and…"

"Not everyone attends those meetings, Regina," he says, pulling back to look at her. "You know that."

"I know."

"I should have gone."

"You have a lot to do," she says, motioning toward the stacks of boxes spread across the living room. "You don't need to babysit me."

"Support," he corrects.

"Is there a difference?" This time, it's Robin who rolls his eyes. "Who knows? Maybe this is all for nothing."

"This?"

"Moving."

Robin's head tips to the side as his brow furrows. "You don't want to move in together?"

"No, I do," she says, sighing as her head falls back. "It's just I don't know that _you_ should be the one moving."

"So, you think that you should move… _here_?"

Shrugging, she lifts her head and looks back to him. "Well, I can't live in the Mayor's Mansion if I'm not the mayor."

At that, Robin's eyes narrow. "You're not usually such a defeatist."

"Aren't I?"

"No," he says, his voice filled with a confidence that in another situation might be reassuring. "You're a fighter– you're _notoriously_ a fighter–and you've _never_ given up when you've faced a challenge, even if you were totally and completely, one-hundred percent wrong." His fingers press into her hip as his grin grows coy. "I mean, after all, you did curse an entire population…"

Her brow arches and a little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth as his voice trail off. "You're lucky you're so cute," she tells him. "Because if you weren't, there is a very good chance you'd be a pile of ash right now."

"You wouldn't," he teases.

"Wouldn't I?" she counters. "Given the way I'm feeling about all of this."

Robin laughs as he shakes his head. "You love me too much to do that."

She sighs and nods. "Like I said, you're lucky you're cute."

"Well–"

"We're all washed up," Henry announces as he and Roland cross the living room, "and we're ready to eat!"

Robin pulls her back to him, pressing as kiss to her forehead. "We're not done with this, though."

"We have to be–"

"For now," he agrees, turning away from her as the boys round the corner into the kitchen–and her heart flutters as he scoops each of them up in his arms, pressing quick kisses to each of their cheeks before setting them down on the counter and preparing their plates, giving them each extra helpings of the vegetables and promising the cookies only in return for cleaned plates.

And as she watches them, she can't help but be glad for them.

Roland's room is packed, so the sofa bed is pulled out and covered in a Superman bedsheet. Henry and Roland are sprawled out on top of them and Hercules is nearly three quarters of the way done–and the boys have been asleep for the better part of a half an hour.

"So, explain to me," Robin begins, leaning in and whispering in her ear. "Why are we still watching _this_ if _they're_ still asleep."

"Oh, that's because if we're watching _this_ ," she replies, "I don't have to talk about… the other thing."

"Midas–"

"Yes."

"Oh," he murmurs. "Okay, as long as there's a good reason to watch this terrible movie."

"You don't like this one?"

"I can't stand this one," he admits. "But it's better than–"

"Robin Hood?" she asks, giggling softly.

"Yes," he sighs, a hint of bitterness behind his short reply.

"So, you must be so relieved that Roland now has _two_ copies of this movie."

"It was either buy the second copy or let him unpack all of the–"

"That's why you should've labeled the boxes," she cuts in. "Like I suggested."

"That wouldn't have helped," he sighs. "I… might've lost the other copy."

"Lost," she repeats, shaking her head. "Sure."

"I felt bad about it, so–"

"So you let him get another copy."

Robin nods, sighing as he looks beyond her. "I'm still not done packing up the bedroom."

"I can help with–"

"Magic?" he asks, looking back to her with hopeful, and even expectant, eyes. "This whole moving process could go smoother with magic, you know."

"I know," she admits, wrinkling her nose. "But I… I don't want to abuse it." She sighs as she looks down at Henry, sleeping with his head in her lap. "I… always relied on it to solve any problem that I faced and… and it was addictive and… it wasn't always that way. It's a slippery slope and… I don't…" She sighs, her eyes pressing closed momentarily before looking back to him. "Sorry."

"Understandable and no need to apologize." Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead. "And even appreciated. I've never been one who envied or even appreciated magic."

Her head falls to his shoulder, and for a moment, they watch the movie that neither of them are really interested in watching.

In some ways, the comfortable silence is nice though.

Still, she's not entirely used to that–to being comfortable in silence, be it with someone else or on her own–but she think she likes it, even if it does make her a little bit nervous. She cuddles in a little closer to Robin as she combs her fingers through Henry's hair, reminding herself that quiet doesn't have to be a calm before a storm, it can just be calm–but as soon as she gives herself that reminder, thoughts of Midas return to her.

For so long, she'd convinced herself that she didn't care about Storybrooke, much less its residents. But the truth was that she did care–she always had–and this was her _second_ second chance.

She hated how much she loved Storybrooke and all its eccentricities, and though once upon a time, she'd been a reluctant queen, she enjoyed being mayor. It'd been a realization she'd come to slowly within the last year, and it took her even longer to realize that her feelings about the town extended beyond wanting to give Henry a happy childhood in a nice little small town–and ever so reluctantly, she came to understand that she cared about the people who lived here.

Of course, she had years and years of memories with all of them. She'd watched them grow and adapt, and turn Storybooke into a quaint little town that she was proud to lead. The curse had only done so much–they'd done the rest. But they didn't see that now and they didn't see her appreciation for it, and no matter what she did or said, no matter how she tried to make it up to them or tried to make amends, they only saw her as the Evil Queen.

Their memories of the cursed years were overwhelming and hazy, blending together and hard to parse apart–and of course, her feelings were the least of their concerns. She knew that and she understood that she was a convenient–and even deserving–punching bag for their frustrations. She didn't have a right to feel hurt by their rejection–but she was–and as much as she hated to admit it, seeing them favor someone like Midas stung. Of course, for all his faults, he'd never burned a village because he'd been pissed off or ripped out anyone's heart because they'd said something kind about his enemies, but he'd always been more interested in wealth and power than the common good. He'd let his people starve and sent them on crusades that'd practically been a death march, all so he could accumulate and collect fancy, shiny things from far off lands–and when she considered that, he wasn't any better than her. At least, it'd been relatively easy to stay out of her way.

"I hate his stupid blue hair," Robin mutters beneath his breath as Hades comes onto the screen–and Regina's eyes widen as she looks to him. "Oh… did I say that out loud?"

"You did," she says, her brow arching. "And so venomously."

"I don't like him."

"He's a Disney villain."

"Exactly."

A little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. "Well, you love me, and isn't that what I am?"

A little chuckle escapes him as he reaches over her, pressing a kiss to her hair as he grabs the remote and turns off the movie. "You look tired."

"I am," she admits. "It was… a long day."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" She shrugs, considering it. "It might make you feel better."

"There's… just not much to say."

Robin's eyes narrow, and momentarily, his eyes fall to Roland. She grins as Robin eases Roland off of his lap and settles him on the empty spot of bed beside him, covering him up and sweeping his messy curls away from his forehead before turning his attention to her. "Can I ask you something, then?"

She nods. "Okay…"

"Do you want to be mayor?" His voice is calm and his gaze expressionless–and when she hesitates, biting down on her bottom lip, he shrugs. "I only ask because the last month has been grueling, and this isn't something you necessarily chose to–"

"I do," she cuts in, answering. "I want to be mayor."

"It's not just… something you're doing because it's what you've always done?"

"Well, that's… part of it, I suppose," she tells him, considering it. "It's a part of who I am."

He nods, his face and voice still even. "So, it's not just your sense of obligation or guilt or–" A grin tugs onto his lips. "Or desire to be in control of… well, everything."

Her eyes narrow. "I think that's all a part of wanting to be mayor, but it's… a small part, I think." Robin nods. "I don't think I realized just how small a part it was until today, when someone threatened to take it away from me," she says. "The job has… had its moments, but I like it and–"

"Then, that's it," Robin says simply. "You'll run."

"What?"

"A campaign," he tells her. "If Midas wants to run against you, so be it. Let him, and give him a run for his money."

She nods, and her stomach flutters as she looks away from him, momentarily focusing down on Henry, still combing her fingers through his hair. "And… what if they don't want me?" she asks, slowly casting her eyes back up to meet his. "What if they… choose Midas?"

"Then… you'll cross that bridge when you come to it," he tells her as he looks down at Henry. "Life has a way of working out as it's supposed to."

"Yeah," she murmurs, a grin pulling onto her lips as her eyes fall to Henry. "That's true."

"And, though I can't know the minds and hearts of Storybrooke, I can't see them choosing Midas over you."

"You underestimate their hate and–"

"They don't know you, Regina, and they're… frustrated."

"I know, but–"

"Maybe you should switch tactics."

At that, her brow arches. "Tactics?"

He nods, "Remind them."

"I won because of a curse."

"There were elections, though," he tells her. "I voted."

"I was running unopposed and had a clear leg up on the competition because–"

"It wasn't the curse," he tells her, grinning softly. "I mean, it was, in part, but it was also you." Her eyes roll, but he reaches out and gives her hand a little squeeze, forcing her eyes back to him. "I spent a _lot_ of time observing you and trying to work up the nerve to talk to you," he begins, his grin brightening as a soft smile edges onto her lips. "You were a good mayor–you _are_ a good mayor. You were always involved and doing things to better the community. People _liked_ you, Regina. They're just… a little mad at you right now."

"I've been putting myself in front of them for weeks, trying to explain–"

"And it's not working."

"No…"

"Then, shift gears. Try something different." Again, he gives her hand a little squeeze. "Remind them of the mayor you've been all these years." Nodding, she draws in a shaky breath–and before she can reply, Robin cuts back in. "If you're about to argue that point, I'll kindly remind you that you are your own worst critic and a faulty narrator of your own story."

"I'm not sure that you're exactly unbiased."

"I am absolutely biased," he admits with a laugh. "And as your campaign manager, I should be."

Her brows arch. "Campaign manager."

"Yes," he replies, nodding as a little laugh escapes him. "At your service, M'lady."

Biting down on her lip, she shakes her head and stifles a laugh. "Are you?"

"I am," he nods. "You've just hired me."

"Have I?"

"Mhm, you have," he tells her. "And aside from singing your praises, I can offer up my cabin as a campaign headquarters and–"

"I thought you were going to rent it."

He shrugs. "I'm not worried about that," he says easily. "Besides, if I'm hanging onto this place for a bit longer, I don't have to worry about packing up and that is an amazing relief."

She offers a dry laugh. "And if I lose, we can always move in here."

Robin's eyes roll as he lets out a sigh, hooking his arm around her shoulders and tugging her to his chest. "Back to that, hm?" She sighs in response as his hand rubs over her arm. "You know, if this last year has taught me anything its–"

"That you're much more forgiving than the average person?"

Again his eyes roll as she peers up at him. "No," he says, his voice curt yet playful. "It's that home isn't a place. It's about feeling loved and secure."

"That's… a really nice thought, and up until recently that house was just a place I slept, but then…"

"Henry came into your life," he supplies for her as her voice begins to fade out.

She nods. "Then you and Roland."

"And no matter what happens, you'll always have us, and the memories you made in that house, you'll take with you wherever you go." He stops a bit abruptly as his eyes narrow. "But between you and me, even if for some reason you did lose the election and Midas does become mayor, I can't see him leaving that eyesore he's currently living in. He thinks it's the Taj Mahal." She giggles. "He'd see it as a step down."

"That's… a fair point," she murmurs, nodding as she considers it. "Because moving is a bitch."

"You're telling me," Robin sighs, rolling his eyes as his head falls back. "I don't even know what's in–" He stops as her eyes widen, and he laughs as she pulls back, swatting playfully at his arm. "I _told_ you you needed to label these boxes."

"I really, truly thought at some point, you'd get frustrated and give your wrist a little flick and magically all of my things would just appear in their proper places."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" she asks, tipping up her chin a bit, feigning indignance.

"You think hauling heavy boxes is fun?"

"No," she admits, as a little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. "But I think watching _you_ haul boxes will be incredibly enjoyable for _me_."

Once more, Robin's eyes roll as a giggle escapes her. He pulls her back to him and presses a kiss to her forehead, laughing softly as his hold on her loosens. "Are you about ready for bed?"

"Yeah," she breathes out, shifting herself away from him and lifting Henry's head from her lap.

Robin gets up and grabs one of the blankets from a stack on the chair and hands it to her as she twists Henry around on the sofa bed, so that he's laying in a somewhat normal position. She tucks a pillow under his head and takes the blanket he offers her, folding it around Henry as she leans in and presses a kiss to his temple. She hovers for a moment, breathing him in as she tells him that she loves him. She kisses her fingers as she leans in over Henry, gently pressing her fingers to Roland's cheek as Robin reaches for her hand, and as his arm slips around her waist, turning her toward the bedroom, she reminds herself that she already has everything she needs.


	2. Special Edition

Since moving in together, he's noticed that she hasn't been sleeping well—and he's noticed that she's done everything in her power to keep it from him.

For a while, she'd been successful, hiding behind excuses of preparing early breakfasts and getting a jump start of her day's work—and of course, for a while, the myriad of creams and makeup products she used helped her maintain her facade. But lack of sleep took a toll—her temper was increasingly shorter, her answers increasingly clipped, and the dark circles under her eyes were increasingly apparent. Then, late one summer night, a thunderstorm tore through Storybrooke. Branches snapped and thunder crashed; lightning lit up the sky. It wasn't long before Henry was peeking into their bedroom, holding back his tears as Roland trailed behind him, dragging his blanket complaining about the noise—and it was then that he realized Regina's side of the bed wasn't just empty, it was cold, like she'd been gone for hours.

They found her eventually in the family room, staring out the window as pellets of rain slammed against the panes. She looked tired and dazed, lost in thought and barely cognizant of the storm. The boys didn't seem to notice that though. Instead, they climbed up onto the couch with her and their presence seemed to bring her back to life. She put on a smile and cuddled them close, wrapping them up in her blanket and spinning a story about rival gods who sparred using crashes of thunder and bolts of lightning.

He couldn't help but smile as he sat down on the couch with them, watching as the boys got caught up in Regina's story—and though that was an easy thing to do, he found it difficult to listen because all he could see was her exhaustion.

After that, he'd been more vigilant.

More and more he woke up to find her absent and whenever he asked—not to be nosy or accusatory, but simply because he was concerned—she brushed it off and offered a flimsy excuse.

And that night seemed no different.

Padding down the stairs at just past midnight, he turned toward the dim light coming from the kitchen. He could hear the soft hum of the microwave and the impatient tapping of Regina's fingers on the countertop, and he braced himself for the inevitable fight.

Taking a breath, he reminds himself to keep his voice light. "I was wondering where you were," he murmurs, grinning softly in her direction. "I woke up and you weren't there."

She turns, looking back at him blankly. "Oh, I just… got kind of hungry."

"That's not surprising. You barely ate dinner."

"I wasn't hungry then."

"I know," he murmurs, remembering the way she'd just pushed her food around on the plate, obviously distracted by something. "But at least we have plenty of leftovers. I know I'm not nearly as talented in the kitchen as you are, but I really think I outdid myself with that fried chicken."

"I packed the drumsticks and wings in the boys' lunches. They asked for them." In spite of his worry, he beams. Henry and Roland never request his leftovers. "I made up a plate to take to work tomorrow."

"Oh?"

Biting down on her lip, she looks back at him from over her shoulder. "I'm having Cake in a Cup now."

He blinks. "What?"

"I'm heating up Cake in a Cup."

"Cake in a _cup—"_

"Yeah, you know, those single servings of cake? You just… dump everything in a mug and—"

"And you have cake in a cup." He nods. "I'm familiar with it. I was a single man, for… a few decades." He grins, trying to make a joke of it, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows they'll fall flat. "That's just… not really something I'd think _you_ would be familiar with."

"Roland tossed it into the cart when we were shopping the other day."

"And you bought it."

She shrugs. "He wanted it."

"You don't have to indulge his every whim, you know."

At that, she looks away and instead of speaking, she slides off the edge of the counter to stand directly in front of the microwave, watching the final seconds count down—and just before the microwave's shrill beep sounds throughout the entire house, she turns it off and opens the door.

He watches as she uses a dish towel to pull the mug from the microwave. "I like indulging him," she says after a moment as she stares down at the mug full of chocolate cake. "It makes him smile." Nodding, he reaches for a spoon and hands it to her. It's not worth arguing over. "It makes him like me," she adds as she accepts the spoon. "And if cake can do that—"

"He doesn't need cake to _like_ you much less love you."

Again, she doesn't reply. Her eyes cast down as she plunges the spoon into the cake and as soon as she tries it, she grimaces. "This is… equal parts flour and sugar."

"I, uh… I remember that." He grins empathetically. "That's why I was surprised you bought it, much less chose to eat it." Regina's eyes press closed and she sets the cup on the counter and sighs. "I could heat you up—"

"No. It's… it's fine. I should just… go to sleep."

For a moment, he just stares at her. "Or… we could stay up and talk awhile." Her eyes open, but they seem expressionless. "If you're in the mood for something sweet, there's that caramel-chocolate popcorn bark stuff—"

"Henry didn't eat it all?"

"No, I kept stealing handfuls from his bowl." He shakes his head. "That kid was going to give himself a stomach ache."

At that, she grins. "He's not great with limits and neither am I."

She stops short of saying more, but as her eyes cast down, the rest is implied.

Reaching out, he takes her hand, giving it a light squeeze. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just… tired and hungry and—"

"Then you've been tired and hungry for weeks." Her eyes shift up to meet his and for a moment, there's a sharpness in her gaze—but then, it fades. "I'm not trying to argue. I want to help, but in order to do that, I need you to let me in a little. Just tell me—"

"Aren't you tired of this?"

"Of what?" His heartbeat picks up and the longer she hesitates to respond, the faster his heart beats. "Tired of… what?"

"Always picking up the pieces, going from one crisis to the next—"

"Well considering I'm unaware of any crisis—"

Her eyes roll. "Oh, come on. Our entire relationship has been about you helping me manage crises."

He feels his brow furrowing. "I… see our relationship very differently."

"Well, you'll see it eventually," she says, pulling her hand from his. "And eventually—"

"Regina. Don't say whatever you're about to say."

She offers a short nod and her gaze falls to her lap, and again an uncomfortable silence falls between them. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what to say—and truly, he's not sure there's anything he can say to help, because in all likelihood, she doesn't need to talk. She needs to sleep.

Taking a breath, he moves to the refrigerator to pull out the milk. As he moves toward the cabinets for a saucepan and the honey, he can feel her eyes on him—and for some reason, that makes him smile.

Neither of them say anything as he heats up the milk and stirs in the honey, and when it's thoroughly warm, he pours it into a mug and takes her by the hand, leading her into the family room. Together they settle on the couch. She cradles her mug of honeyed milk in her hands as he fans a thick blanket over them, and for a few minutes, they just sit together.

"Something's clearly bothering you," he begins, "and it's been bothering you for weeks now." Chewing at his lip, he hesitates before adding. "Maybe we need to slow down. You know, moving in together is a huge step and maybe we're not ready for—"

"What? No." Her eyes are wide and full of alarm. "I… I mean, unless… unless that's… unless that's how you feel about it."

He swallows. "Well, no. I… that's not how I feel. I just… I'm trying to understand and… you're not giving me much to work with." Again, she doesn't reply, instead taking a long sip of her milk. "Maybe now isn't the time for this."

Looking over at him, she looks like she's on the verge of tears. "I'm going to lose."

"What?"

"I'm going to lose the election in November."

His brows arch up. "What makes you say that?"

"Everything," she sighs, shrugging her shoulders in resignation. "They don't trust me. I've done too many terrible things. There's just… there's no coming back from it."

He can't say this is out of left field. Ever since the curse broke, she's been worried about her role as mayor—and ever since George announced his own candidacy, that worry has been heightened. In some ways, he understands it. For years, the people of Storybrooke lived in fear of her. They saw her go after political rivals and threats, they watched her consolidate power, and they watched her lash out in an effort to gain control. She hurt people, that was undeniable.

But she'd come a long way since then.

The curse changed her. Storybrooke changed her.

In the Enchanted Forest, there'd been so much driving her—loss and pain, the constant need to prove and defend herself, the hurt that came with never being enough. She'd let her need for revenge get in her way, she'd let it overtake her, she'd let it overshadow her reign.

But in Storybrooke, she had seemingly unlimited chances to get it right—and she did.

For all her faults, Regina Mills was a good mayor and as a result, Storybrooke was a nice place to live—after all, isn't that why so few were clamoring to go back to the Enchanted Forest?

"Um… I got an… advanced copy of the _Mirror_ ," she says, bringing his thoughts back to the present. "Sidney did this… whole edition just on me and why residents of Storybrooke should elect _anyone_ else. The whole thing was filled with every terrible thing I've ever done, and…" She shrugs. "And the worst of it was that he didn't even need to embellish. He just… told the truth."

He feels his cheeks warming and his jaw clenching. "Do you have it? I'd, uh… I'd like to see it."

Her eyes roll. "I… might've accidentally burned it." He shouldn't, but he laughs. "But you and the rest of Storybrooke will have the chance tomorrow morning."

He watches as she takes a long sip of the milk, taking a long breath before swallowing it. Her hooded eyes seem heavier and he inches closer, stretching his arm around her shoulders. "Well, in the morning, maybe we should sit down and come up with a counterattack."

"I don't know if that'll help. What's done is done."

"You're usually not such a defeatist."

"Maybe I just know when I've lost."

His eyes narrow. "That's your exhaustion talking."

"No—"

Her head falls to his shoulder and her voice just stops, and for a brief moment, he wonders if she's dozed off. Then, she takes another silent sip of the milk.

"When was the last time you really slept?"

"I don't know."

"It's been at least a week."

"Has it?"

"Yes," he murmurs, dragging his fingers up and down her arm. "I've been keeping track."

"Oh."

"Have you, um… have you seen Dr. Hopper at all?"

"Not this week."

"Last?"

"When I dropped Henry off for his session."

"Did you talk to him?"

She lifts her head and bites down on her lip. "I said hello."

"Regina's that's not—"

"I know. It's just… it's hard and… I don't want to talk about this. I just—" Again, she stops and her head falls back to his shoulder. "The milk will help."

He nods, but he's not so sure. "What about, um… what about the prescription Dr. Hopper wrote for—"

"I don't like taking those."

Once more, he nods. He knows. They've discussed this again and again. Regina wouldn't even so much as touch the bottle of pills in the medicine cabinet. "But, love," he begins in a tentative voice, "they're to help you sleep."

"Robin, they make me feel—" Regina stops and sighs as she lifts her head to look at him, her eyes wide and teary from exhaustion. "What if something happens? What if Henry has a nightmare or—"

"I'll be here."

"But—"

"Regina, it's the middle of the night. The boys are sound asleep, and Henry hasn't had a nightmare in months." She blinks, not immediately arguing, and he takes that as a sign that she's listening. "Sure, it'll knock you out for a solid eight to twelve hours, and sure you might be a little out of it when you wake up, but you'll be rested."

"I just… don't like the way they make me feel."

"And you _like_ feeling absolutely exhausted?"

He smirks as her eyes narrow, and he can tell that she wants to argue, but instead she sighs. "No."

"Let me go get them for you," he says. "You'll take them, we'll put on a movie—"

"And you'll stay up with me until I fall asleep?" He nods as she draws in a breath. "Okay. Fine. Go get them."

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead. He goes up to their room and finds the unopened prescription before fishing out two of the little peach colored tablets and filling a paper cup up with water. He grins as he looks at the cup adorned with Superman standing tall with his fists on his hips and cape blowing in the night wind.

"Superman's here to save the night," he announces as he rejoins her on the couch, chuckling softly as her brows arch.

"Are you… giving yourself a new nickname?"

"No," he murmurs, holding up the cup. "Just… pointing out the obvious."

Her eyes roll as she takes the Superman cup and then holds out her open hand for the pills. He drops them into her palm and watches as she tosses the tablets into her mouth and gulps down the water.

"What movie did you pick?" he asks as he takes the cup from her and sets it on the side table. "I hope it's not—" He stops as she presses play and the opening credits of _Labyrinth_ begins to play. "Oh, fantastic. It is."

"You know I like this movie."

"I know," he sighs. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why though." He bristles as Regina turns up the volume. "His hair is stupid. It distracts me."

She shrugs and doesn't answer. Instead, she drops her head down onto his shoulder and pulls her blanket up around herself—and twenty minutes later, her breathing seems to steady. He peers down at her, watching as she sleeps. She's snoring lightly and there's a little wet patch on his shirt, and though she's obviously asleep, he doesn't move her until he's absolutely certain she won't wake up again.

Carefully, he lifts her and takes her back to bed, tucking her in and turning out all the lights—and then, instead of climbing in beside her, he heads back down the hall to Henry's room where both he and Roland are sleeping in a tent made of blankets.

"Hey, guys," he whispers loudly as he jostles Roland. "Wake up."

Henry's head lifts first. "Is it morning?"

"No."

"Then why are you waking us?" Roland asks, lifting his head as his brow furrows. "I was comfy."

"Because we're going to go on a little adventure."

At that, Henry perks up. "An adventure?"

"But it's nighttime…"

"I know, son," he says, chuckling light. "Nighttime is the best time for an adventure." He laughs as the boys exchange a look. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs in ten minutes!"

While the boys dress, he does, too, and then he makes a phone call to John, asking that he meet them at the Mirror—his only question is whether or not he'll need his crowbar to bust through the lock.

Twenty minutes later, Robin and the boys pull into the parking lot where John is already waiting, sipping beer from a growler. Robin's brow arches as he looks to John, shaking his head and sighing as John murmurs something about bringing a cup to share it.

"What are we doing?" Henry whispers as Robin crouches in front of the lock to examine it. "Is this… um… is this legal?"

"Let me tell you something, my boy," John begins, his voice a loud whisper, "Just because something's legal doesn't mean it's good, and just because something's illegal doesn't make it bad."

"So, we're breaking in for a good reason?"

Robin grins back at him and nods as he sticks his pick in the lock. "I, uh, I want to surprise your mom."

Henry grins, pleased with the answer while Roland fidgets. "Can the surprise include waffles? She always gets happy when we have waffles for breakfast."

"I don't see why not," Robin returns. "But first, we've gotta get into the—" His voice halts as he hears a light click and when he tries the door knob, the door swings open, revealing Sidney's office. He stands as John hoists up his growler as silent cheer. "Come on, boys," he murmurs, "We're practically being invited in!"

"And now that we're in…?" John asks, looking between Robin and the boys. "Your dad's kept me just as much in the dark as the two of you."

"We're looking for stories about some of the good things that have happened in Storybrooke over the years—specifically things that Regina did as mayor." He shrugs. "Shouldn't be too hard to find in the files."

John nods. "True, especially considering everything had a penchant for happening again and again and again and again and—"

"We get it," Robin says, rolling his eyes as he looks at John. "The files are upstairs. Take Roland with you."

"What can I do?"

Robin grins and takes Henry's hand, leading him over to Sidney's desk. "Write a story about your mom while I get rid of everything that's going to print in the edition that was planned."

Henry's eyes widen and a grin pulls onto his lips. "Really? I get to write a _newspaper article_?"

Nodding, Robin pulls out Sidney's chair. "Front page for all of Storybrooke to see!" Henry beams as he plops down into the chair and flicks on the computer. "Now, I'm going to call the printer to cancel the drivel that was supposed to be published in the morning."

"Won't he know it's not really Sidney?"

Grinning, Robin reaches into his pocket and shows Henry a little vial. "Don't tell your mom."

Henry giggles and rubs his thumb and forefinger over his lips. "My lips are sealed!"

"Good boy," Robin says as he offers Henry a wink. "Now get to writing that article. We've only got a couple of hours before this thing has to print!"

Regina's eyes flutter open as the warm sunlight shines onto the bed, and as she sits up, her head feels a little cloudy. She yawns, rolling her shoulders and turning her head from side to side as her eyes adjust. She feels like she has a hangover—a mild one, perhaps, but a hangover nonetheless.

Despite that, she doesn't feel tired. Her eyes stay open without effort and the thought of getting up and going downstairs to start breakfast doesn't seem overwhelming to her—in fact, her current ailments are nothing a hot shower won't solve. Tossing the blanket away from herself, she gets up and pads to the bathroom, her eye catching the little amber prescription bottle sitting up on the counter. As much as she hates to admit it, Robin was right. The pills helped.

She decides not to consider that anymore, not wanting to think about the torture she caused herself and whether or not that torture was deserved as a sort of pennance, and instead, she busies herself with selecting a fragrant soap and shampoo from her collection. She chooses a lavender eucalyptus one that'll likely relieve some of the pressure in her head, and as soon as she shrugs off her pajamas and steps into the steamy water, she can feel it all melting away…

She's not entirely sure how long she spent in the shower, but when she steps out and wraps herself in her robe, she can't deny that she feels better—refreshed and energized, ready as she can be to face the day.

But instead of facing the day, she finds herself facing Henry and Roland. They're sitting on the bed with a breakfast tray between them. In a burst they talk over one another as they explain they've made her favorite apple cinnamon waffles from scratch. They made bacon, too, and cut up some fresh fruit—Roland proudly announces they even made fresh orange juice.

She can't help but smile as she leans in, kissing them each on the cheek as she thanks them, and then, she turns to Robin who's standing at the foot of the bed, holding out a mug of coffee with the newspaper tucked underneath his arm.

"I have to admit… you were right."

Robin grins. "I know."

"Humble," she murmurs, her eyes rolling as she takes the mug and cups it in her hands. "Did you guys eat? There's definitely enough on that tray to share."

"We ate already," Henry tells her. "We wanted to make you breakfast in bed."

"Yeah," Roland adds. "So you could read the paper."

Biting down on her lip, she looks between them. Usually on Saturday's that's exactly what she likes to do. She sits down at the counter with breakfast and coffee and catches up on the week's news. She skims over the bits and pieces she's already heard about in one way or another, but spends hours pouring over the human interest pieces and advertisements. For as long as she can remember, this was her Saturday morning routine.

"I… don't think I'm going to read the paper today."

"I think you should," Robin says, smirking as he hands it to her. "It's all about you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she replies through gritted teeth. "I don't really want to—"

"Look at it, Mom," Henry insists, grinning as her eyes shift to him. "It's a really good edition."

Her eyes narrow as she looks back to Robin and reluctantly reaches out to take the paper, and as soon as she unfolds it, she feels warm tears welling in her eyes as she reads the headline in big bold letters.

"What does it say?" Roland asks, tipping up his chin to catch a glimpse of the paper. "I can't see it."

"The headline is… um… it says, 'All the Reasons You Should Re-Elect Regina Mills,' and, um… apparently the _Mirror_ endorsed me." Her eyes shift to Robin whose eyes are glittering mischievously. "Apparently someone at the _Mirror_ worked some magic."

"That's one way of putting it," Robin says, stepping in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "But let's consider all that later. Now, you need to eat those waffles before they get cold."

Looking down at the newspaper, Regina nods, then folds it over—she'll read it front to back later—for now, all she wants to do is cuddle up with her boys and enjoy a surprisingly calm morning.


End file.
